


Small Mercies

by theherocomplex



Series: Commander Eliza Shepard [9]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Commander Shepard's Birthday, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Shakarian - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 04:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6738400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theherocomplex/pseuds/theherocomplex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At least <i>someone</i> remembered what day it was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Mercies

Shepard’s stomach rumbled plaintively as she stepped into the elevator, though the noise was nicely covered by the ongoing _debate_ between the assembled dignitaries. Small mercy — the only kind she could count on these days, it seemed. Sometimes, she couldn’t even count on that.

The door slid shut on the blurred voices in the conference room. She propped her shoulders against the wall, groaning as Wrex shouted. She couldn’t make out his exact words, but judging by the way the dalatrass’s voice rose, sharp and imperative, it could only have been about one thing: the genophage, and its cure.

 _Well, she can argue all she wants_ , Shepard thought, tugging the pins out of her hair one by one and stuffing them in the pocket of her dress trousers. _The genophage is non-negotiable. At least Victus is on board._

The voices faded as the elevator rose, still slow as hell — and she let her eyes slide shut and her hair fall in a heavy curtain around her face. A few moments of quiet, to herself, and maybe a shower, and then she’d be ready to read through her overflowing inbox.

As ready as she could be, with millions crying out for help, and millions more who would never get the chance.

She sighed, pushed off the wall as the elevator reached her cabin, and straightened. No one could see her here, except EDI, but habits died hard. As soon as she walked out of the in-between space behind the elevators doors, she had to be Commander Shepard again, unbowed and unbreaking.

Her stomach growled again, and her mother’s voice floated through her head: _An army’s only as good as its stomach. Don’t forget it._

 _Thanks, Mom_ , Shepard thought at her, a pang of bitter homesickness filling her chest. _But forgive me if I don’t try to find a way to starve out the Reapers_. _As for me, I’ll get a ration bar and some coffee_.

There was food down in the mess — nothing fancy, just powdered eggs and reconstituted hash browns and maybe, if they were lucky, freeze-dried bacon — but looking for it meant talking to people, and Shepard had had enough _talking_ to last her a lifetime.

Of course, she’d have to get up in a few hours to start talking all over again, and hope that she could coax, wheedle, or flat-out bully the dalatrass into supporting the genophage cure.

“Starving the Reapers out seems more likely,” she muttered to herself, undoing the lapel of her dress jacket as she palmed the door lock. “Tip of the spear, my ass, Hackett — you need a diplomat, and I’m  —”

“Early,” said Garrus, from the bottom of the stairs.  

“I’m what?” Shepard froze in the doorway, halfway through toeing off her shoes. “It’s almost midnight, Garrus. I think most of the galaxy would consider that _late_.”

He spread his hands, mandibles flicking out in a brief grin. “Relatively speaking,” he said. “Figured you’d be playing nice for at least another hour.”

Shepard snorted. “If I had to stay down there another hour, _playing nice_ would have been the _last_  thing on my mind. The airlock was starting to look like a reasonable solution to our differences.” She kicked off her shoes, aiming them toward the bathroom, and padded toward Garrus as he gave her a lazy smile. God, but he looked good, all sharp lines under his dark civvies — warm and safe and calm, the opposite of everything on the other side of her door. “Far be it from me to complain about a handsome turian in my quarters,” she said. “But I thought you were working with Tali tonight.”

Garrus cleared his throat. “A little subterfuge,” he answered, when Shepard paused in stepping out of her trousers to cock an eyebrow at him. “You…I did a little research, and…”

“I _do_ love it when you say that.” Shepard laughed when Garrus gave her a wry look. “What? You getting all research-y means good things for me. Call me selfish.”

“I would _never_.” Garrus took a step forward, and raked his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp on the way. Shepard groaned, this time in pleasure, and leaned her head on the edge of his cowl. “I thought you’d be a bit later, so it’s not done yet, but —”

“What’s not done?” Shepard asked, looking up just as the smell hit her. The mellow, rich, warm, _buttery_ smell. “Oh my God, Garrus, is that…?”

He nodded, rubbing the back of her neck in slow, gentle circles as she dropped onto the couch, staring at the covered plates on the low table. “Like I said, I did a little research — meaning, I called your mom —”

“Oh my God,” murmured Shepard, breathing in deep. “Is that _smoked gouda_?”

“— and she told me your favorite food group — not just your favorite food, your favorite food _group —_ was cheese. Which I already knew, because I’ve been around you for a while now, but she pointed me in the direction of a certain store on the Citadel. _Taste of Terra,_ or something like that. Anyways. I bought you the cheese aisle.”

Shepard blinked, her eyes prickling and her cheeks hot. “You bought me a cheese aisle,” she deadpanned, waiting for Garrus to laugh off what was _completely_ a joke, but he only shrugged.

“Reaper Advisor salary,” he said. “It’s not _just_ cheese. There’s bread, and steak, and —” he drew himself up, so tall and so pleased with himself, and Shepard’s heart squeezed like a fist. “— something Miranda recommended that involves a lot of chocolate and whipped cream. Liara’s responsible for the wine, by the way, and EDI said she’ll filter all non-urgent calls till oh six hundred. So really, tonight’s a group effort. And don’t worry about me, I brought my own dinner.”

“Why?” Shepard pulled her eyes away from the food with an effort. She could have eaten everything — _everything —_ on the table, and not blinked twice. “I mean — I know I sound ungrateful, Garrus, and I’m not. This is just about the nicest thing someone could do for me, but what’s the occasion? Did I miss something?” She watched him through her lashes, twisting the hem of her tank top between her fingers.

Garrus sighed. “Shepard.” He ran one finger down her cheek, soft enough to make her shiver. “It’s your _birthday_.”

“It’s — no.” Shepard stood up, her stomach in knots. “I forgot my own damn birthday?” _I’ve already lost two, and_ –

She stopped that train of thought in its tracks, and gave Garrus a shaky smile. “I think that’s the first time it’s happened,” she said, and laughed.

“Your mom did say it was unlike you,” Garrus said, his warm hand lingering on her bare shoulder. “But you’ve got an excuse. I just…wanted to make sure you didn’t come home to one more night like all the others.”

All the other nights, where she came back from being shot at or shouted at, one day and a thousand years older, tired beyond reckoning, only to lie awake and wonder what she’d missed, or what she’d wake up to find gone forever.

“It’s not much,” Garrus began, when she’d been silent too long. “But —”

“Stop,” Shepard interrupted him, swallowing hard. “It’s perfect. Garrus, you bought me  _cheese_. On my _birthday_. Have I told you lately how damn lucky I am to have you?”

He laughed, a soft explosion of sound in the quiet room. “You could always say it again,” he said. “My ego could use the boost.”

She opened her mouth, ready to say a hundred things at once, with _I love you so much_ and  _thank you_ at the top of the list, and didn’t say any of them.

Instead, she stepped close, as close as she could get, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He smelled like metal and the ship’s detergent, and he smelled like himself, clean as ferns and moss, and he smelled like  _home,_ warm and alive.

She clung to him for a long time, listened to the steady rhythm of his heart and the faint rumble of his breathing. They had already lost so much — not just them, but the whole galaxy — and there’d be some people who would claim that nothing they did mattered at all.

And they were dead wrong. Small mercies, small kindnesses, were all that mattered now.

“I’m so lucky to have you. God, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she whispered into the warm hide of his neck. “Remind me never to find out.”

Garrus hummed, half-thoughtful and half-pleased. “I think that goes both ways,” he said, and kissed her, light and warm, before pushing her toward the table. “Now, dig in. I’ve got some more birthday surprises planned, and you’re going to need the calories.”

Shepard laughed, her cheeks heating again as she squeezed his hand. “Sounds like a party,” she said, as she lifted the lid off the first plate.


End file.
